Long time love

I had an infusion today. With herceptin, infusions are fast and easy. The actual infusion takes maybe 45 minutes, max. Of course, that doesn't include the waiting. All told, I plan on 1.5 hours per infusion, which compared to chemo is a breeze. Plus, herceptin, while it tends to make me bitchy, otherwise doesn't seem to have any negative immediate side effects (it is cardio toxic so it could have some pretty crappy long term side effects, but in general, I don't feel bad when I get these infusions).

Unlike the chemo patients, herceptin only patients have it easy, plus most of us have hair.

In a sense, I guess you could say we are the "graduates" who are coming back to school to visit.

Today, when I was waiting to go into the infusion suite, I was sitting next to a quite elderly African-American gentleman. He was still, solemn. Very still. As I was waiting, one of the infusion nurses came out and told him he could come back and bring his wife her crocheting and see how she was doing. Away he went.

When I finally got back into the suite, I ended up striking up a conversation with her. She struck me as quite a bit younger than her husband, but what do I know? Anyway, it became clear that today was her first chemo infusion, and it was clear that she and her husband really love each other.

Later he came back into the suite, carrying her large purse. Holding it comfortably, yet as if it were a foreign object. He just wanted to check on her. He wanted to know how, exactly the infusion machine worked. It's sort of magic. It's like an IV drip with a regulator on it, or something like that. He inquired about her crochet project...a kelly green and white afghan with 3-D flowers on it, for her grandson.

Overall, he exuded concern.

He was wearing pleated slacks that bagged on his slight, stooped frame and a long sleeved dress shirt, buttoned up to the top button. She asked him to bend over, and my first thought was that she was going to give him a peck on his cheek. Instead, she straightened the back of his collar.

After he left, she and I struck up a conversation and she told me that he had been her pastor for 19 years. Then his wife died and five years later, they were married. They are approaching their 13th anniversary.

Knowing he'd already lost one wife helps explain his concern, solemnity, and quietude.

I've heard horror stories of husbands not "getting it" when it comes to their wives' chemo treatment, men who think women should be up to sex on on chemo weeks, men who think their wives should be making them dinner, men who don't understand the deep fatigue that comes with chemo. Honestly, I've met several women I've been quite concerned about.

But this woman today, I feel she will be well taken care of in the weeks and months to come.

That man obviously adored her. And she him.

Go toward the light...

A few weeks ago, I said that I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I was really hoping that that light wasn't a train or something like that.

To recap, I finished radiation the second week of May, and made it through alright. I developed some annoying burns the week after, but a well placed call (and being cranky) to the radiation nurses got me a prescription for some Silvadene creme which helped immensely. At this point, I have some peeling skin under my arm and some scabbed over blisters under my breast, none of which really bother me, so I'm guessing I'm calling the immediate physical side effects finished.

I've hit the peak of my fatigue from radiation, and sometime over the next few months it should start to improve. This explains why I'm so delayed in updating my blog. I can apparently string together 420 or fewer characters to update facebook, but much more than that has seemed overwhelming.

And for that I apologize.

I saw Dr. Mo, my onco, on Thursday, exactly 10 months to the day from being told that I most likely had fairly advanced breast cancer. That was the 20th of July, and the final testing results were told to me on the 25 of July. On May 20, the birthday of my 10 yr old son and the 16th birthday of my stillborn daughter, Dr. Mo pronounced me "cured."

Wow.

I guess that light was really the sun and not a train headlight.

While no one can be sure what is going on on the molecular or cellular level, as far as Dr. Mo is concerned, I am officially cancer free. I've been chemo'd (x2), radiated, sliced and diced, and, in theory at least, those rogue, rapidly multiplying cells are all gone.

I still have to do 8 more rounds of herceptin to make sure that my cells don't decide to rapidly multiply. But that's not that big of a deal compared to chemo. And I have at least one reconstruction surgery ahead at some point. And then there are all the long term side effects which may or may not be permanent: neuropathy, cardiac toxicity, reduced heart function, possible lung damage, damage to other physiological systems, psychological and neurological changes.....

But the cancer is cured and for that I'm quite relieved.

The first of 11...

...Herceptin infusions, that is.

I guess it could be called "chemo lite" even though technically, it's not chemo. For the next 30 weeks, I'll go to the infusion center to get a herceptin only infusion. The side effects, compared to chemo, are minimal.

Herceptin alone is responsible for decreasing breast cancer recurrence for people with my type of tumor by 40-50%. However, this does come with costs: an increased risk of heart disease (cardiomyopathy and congestive heart failure, both of which can lead to death) and an estimated financial cost of $100,000/yr.

As I said before, compared to chemo, the side effects (other than heart issues) are minor: fever, chills, muscle aches, nausea. These side effects are said to decrease with future infusions. I had six herceptin infusions with my first round of chemo (last fall, before my surgery). At that time, I also received carboplatin and taxotere. I experienced quite severe leg and joint pain, especially the last half of the treatments, which lasted until January (I finished treatments in November). That pain was attributed to the taxotere. However, now I wonder about that because tonight, for the first time since it went away, I experienced that same pain, on a much lower scale, in my knees while I was driving (before, it was severe enough to cause me to automatically take pain relief if I were driving anywhere out of town), I can "feel" my knees sitting in this recliner, and my ankles were aching at dinner. Granted, this is all at a much lower level, but it is otherwise the exact same pain, in the exact same places that I experienced before.

Now I wonder, will it get worse over time? Is this a fluke? Is it all in my head? Or, will the pain build over time, and if so, how intense can it get over 30 weeks of treatment? Was it compounded by the taxotere?

Will I actually become an old lady before I stop feeling like an old lady?

So, that's what I did today, and, hopefully, that's what I'll do every third Friday for the next 30 weeks. So far, I feel fine, other than those odd, minor aches. You can read about how herceptin works here.

Meanwhile, the detox diet has been going well. I just may have to get used to cooking separately for myself because after 1.5 weeks of no sugar, no saturated fats, no grains, no dairy and eating mostly various leafy greens, fish, chicken, and berries, I really don't find the thought of other foods very enticing. For some reason, tonight, I had an intense craving for Bob Evan's biscuits, but even that intensity was much less than just a few days ago when I could have killed for a mouthful of the fried rice I made my family for dinner.

Now, if I could figure out how to replicate the Garden Tomato Soup that is served at Naslada, I'd be one happy camper.

One more notch on the treatment belt...

Had my last chemo today.

For awhile, we weren't sure if I'd be getting it since I've been so sick this week from this demonic cold. However, since I didn't have a fever and since I haven't had a fever, and since I managed to not cough so they could hear how bad I sound, I got my infusion.

One week of being nauseous and feeling hung over, and this stage of this godforsaken journey is over. I did six infusions between Aug. 11 and Nov. 25. Then had a bilateral mastectomy Dec. 16. And just finished doing four dose dense infusions between January 22 and today, March fifth. I am so glad I decided to do the dose dense route. No way could I have done this and continued to work. I was wiped out after the first round of chemo, which was administered every three weeks, leaving me a week of feeling normal. With the dose dense, my blood counts never get a chance to climb. The lowest point is right around when I get my next dose. Pretty much everything is an effort, from thinking to...well, thinking and mental processing are both quite challenging right now. I feel really dumb much of the time. Physically, well, let's just not go there. It's depressing.

But that's all (nearly) behind me now. It's quite a relief. Quite. Truth be told, I fear the next stage of treatment more than I've feared anything in my life, but it is the LAST major hurdle I have planned. 6.5 weeks of daily radiation treatments. Guess it's time to get a schedule:)

I'm not going to let the fact that I was surrounded by women with recurrences today at the infusion center make me any less optimistic. I'll do my year of herceptin; my heart function will stay good enough to not screw that up; and then I'll never have to see the inside of an infusion center ever again, unless I'm visiting someone else who is there.

Oh, and I got to pick up my compression sleeves today, which means that now there is no reason not to exercise. Guess I'll start as soon as that personal trainer shows up.